


How can I sell my soul to the devil

by missace



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, James kills a lot of bad guys, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Soul reaping, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Spoilers for all of Daniel Craig's Bond movies, Stalking, Supernatural Elements, Tags May Change, Violence, demon!Q
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 21:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12154737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missace/pseuds/missace
Summary: …when he already owns half of it?James gains a shadow upon entering the double-oh program. He can’t decide if that’s a good or a bad thing.A 00Q demonic soulmate AU.





	How can I sell my soul to the devil

 

_Skyfall Manor, Scotland_

James Bond has a birthmark of a perfectly shaped ‘O’ with a scythe laid at the bottom. Altogether, it looks like a backwards ‘Q’ that can only be read correctly in the mirror.

His birthmark is different from everyone else’s. He has only got the one backwards letter while everyone else who has a birthmark has two letters and they’re the right way around.

Apparently only he can see these birthmarks because when he asks his parents about them, they are at first confused.

To convince them, he tells them of the letters he sees on his father’s arm but his mother’s arm is bare. That’s when they grow concerned.

They send him to an optometrist to get his eyes checked, then to a psychiatrist to get his head checked.

He regrets ever bringing it up and learns to never mention it to anyone again.

He would touch his birthmark every once in a while when he would catch sight of it in the mirror, the lone letter reflecting benignly back at him from inside the crook of his left elbow.

It would twinge occasionally but other than that, it was useless.

00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q

_Prague_

His first kill to qualify as a double-oh agent did make him “feel it.”

Afterwards, with adrenaline coursing through his body, James had been ready for another fight and intended to do just that at some local dive bar. But then a busty brunette caught his eye so he fucked her instead. Pounded her right into the mattress and made her forget everything except his name, which she had screamed when she came.

His second kill now seems anticlimactic.

He rings M to tell her that Dryden is dead. She congratulates James on making the double-oh program, tells him that a clean-up crew is on its way, and he can pick up his flight details back to London at the front desk of his hotel.

Hanging up the phone, James glimpses a shadow pass by the chair where he had been sitting and draws his gun. He does a sweep of the room and nothing.

“Nothing’s there,” he tells himself, “Snap out of it.”

His second kill is affecting him more than he thought it would if he’s jumping at shadows. How embarrassing.

In the taxi ride to the hotel, he couldn’t stop looking out the back window to check. Then at the bar, he couldn’t stop scanning his environment for threats. Back in his room, he couldn’t fucking sleep, and it’s not because he had just killed a man. It’s because throughout the rest of the night, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being _watched_.

But every time he looks, there is nobody there.

The feeling disappears the next day when he boards the plane to go home. He chalks it up to nerves and leaves it at that.

00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q

_Madagascar_

James is on the chase. As he runs, he catches glimpses of a shadow flickering in and out of his eyesight.

Is that? No, it can’t be.

There’s no time for him to take a good look as he tries to figure out an escape plan while dodging gunfire.

At a standoff in the embassy, he becomes sure that it’s the same shadow from Prague when he sees it move next to the gas canisters. This gives him an idea.

He shoots Mollaka, then the canisters, grabs Mollaka’s stuff, and hightails it out of the embassy.

While hiding behind the ledge, the feeling of being watched comes back. He looks up and sees it. The shadow is in the foliage.

In the next blink of an eye, it’s gone.

But the feeling of being watched persists. He blames it on the adrenaline high until the feeling disappears the next day.

00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q

_Miami_

James watches with a great deal of satisfaction as the police car continues to burn despite the local firefighters’ best efforts to put out the flame.

From his elevated vantage point inside an ambulance, he scans his environment. He hasn’t seen even a flicker of the shadow as he pursued the bomber through Miami airport.

James killed two men tonight. It should follow that the shadow is somewhere nearby.

Because the first time seeing it is a novelty and the second time can be called a coincidence, but a third time becomes a pattern.

Try as he might, James doesn’t see the shadow anywhere. Although it could just be because it’s dark.

He doesn’t want to feel disappointed but he does.

00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q

_Montenegro_

James winces as he cleans the cut at his temple. Hand-to-hand combat had never made him feel so out of sorts but this time it does.

All of his training did not prepare him for what it would be like to strangle a man to death with his bare hands. Well, now he knows.

James shakenly pours himself a fortifying drink and downs it in one long gulp.

The feeling of being watched is back.

As he looks in the mirror, he catches sight of the shadow lurking behind him near the wall to the left of his elbow.

Before he can think better of it, he demands, “Just where the hell have you been?”

He turns quickly to confront it but it’s already gone.

His birthmark begins to twinge so he lifts his arm to see. It flares red and he feels a sharp pain making him cry out. Then it goes just as quickly as it comes, fading to a dull black again.

He stands there panting, cradling his left elbow. Miraculously, he feels alert and his headache is gone.

Looking up again, he catches sight of himself in the mirror. The cuts he sustained from the fight have all but disappeared and the slash wound on his chest is healing right before his eyes.

He wipes away the blood and sees that his skin is like new. There is no scar, no trace that he was injured.

At a loss as to what he should do with this…supernatural experience, he slowly cleans himself up and gets dressed in silence.

He should be afraid but he isn’t. Some small, buried part of him does feels afraid that he isn’t afraid. This is somehow connected to his birthmark which has been with him his whole life. How could he feel afraid of something that’s a part of him?  All he feels right now is calm and collected. And watched.

The shadow is still here, he just can’t see it.

Dithering at the door, he shuffles his feet, feeling ridiculous. But he clears his throat and says, “Thank you,” to the room in general.

He doesn’t wait for a response and is out of the door in moments.

It seems he has a…what? Guardian angel? Shouldn’t they be shrouded in white light instead of black?

He doesn’t think too hard on it. He needs to focus on winning this card game.

00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q

_Montenegro_

It’s the strangest thing to stand there and look down at your own body. James squints and cocks his head to one side. He looks almost small collapsed in that position. Dead.

The afterlife has a surreal quality to it. Colours lack lustre and all sound is muffled but his instincts are intact. He can feel his shadow next to him. It’s big; must be at least seven feet tall.

“I should have known that you weren’t my ‘guardian angel.’

James looks at it from the corner of his eyes and…are those wings?

“You’re the grim reaper aren’t you? Come to take me away?”

He turns then and dares to look at it head-on. He can’t make out any shapes or textures. Everything about the other being looks fuzzy and blurred.

One thing for sure though is the ‘hand’ that reaches out and caresses the side of his face. It feels surprisingly warm and alive.

It rumbles and hisses in a language that should be foreign to him but his mind translates it clearly to, “Hold on, Jamesss.”

Footsteps sound in the distance and they both turn to watch Vesper walk in slow motion towards them. She looks concerned and completely ignorant of their presence.

When she’s about to walk through the shadow, James jumps in front of her to try and stop her, “No. Wait!”

Whether it was to protect her or the shadow, he won’t remember.

She walks through him instead and it’s extremely disconcerting.

He turns around and watches her enter the shadow and disappear out of sight.

Has it…absorbed her?

He opens his mouth to rebuke the shadow, to say that she is still alive and it has no right to take her.

But he forgets that when the shadow traces those warm fingers over his birthmark.

_It can see birthmarks too!_ thinks Bond, incredulously.

Then he is gasping as he starts to fall, knees weak with lust and want.

He’s hard. So hard.

The shadow catches him before he hits the ground and holds him in a loose embrace. James feels safe and cherished and so goddamn aroused.

The fingers press harder into his arm and he’s close, so close to coming and—

Then he’s gasping for breath. Disoriented, he looks around. Leather. Seats. Gear shift.

Car. He’s in a car.

He looks up and sees Vesper. He’s supposed to remember something about her, something important.

He grasps her wrist. “You okay?”*

She looks at him confused. “Me?”*

He glances down at himself and it all comes flooding back to him. Poison. Defibrillator. Right.

“Thank you,” he says as he moves to get up.*

“You’re welcome,” says a voice from Q branch, “Now get yourself to a hospital.”*

“I will do. As soon as I’ve won this game.”*

00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q

_Montenegro_

It’s the strangest thing to stand there and look down at your own body. James squints and tilts his head to one side. His bits look small just sort of hanging there in mid-air.

Somebody really ought to cover him with a sheet. It’s obscene even though he is nude in his current form as well.

The afterlife has a surreal quality to it. There’s very little colour and all sound is muted. He can feel his shadow next to him. It must be at least seven feet tall. He didn’t think it would be so big.

“When you healed me I thought you were my ‘guardian angel.’

James looks at it from the corner of his eyes and…it’s bipedal but those legs are not human.

“What are you?”

He turns then and dares to look at it head-on. From far away it could pass for human but up close it looks completely alien. Its skin is dark red and it has muscles defined in places where it ought not.

In careful diction, it rumbles, “A demon.”

James looks up and he can make out long, curved horns protruding from its temples and large leathery wings. Classic demon features. All it’s missing is—ah, there’s the tail.

“I can believe that,” James murmurs.

It places a hand that is twice the size of his own on the centre of his chest.

Slowly it says with a hint of wonder, “You are not afraid.”

James really should be afraid, but for some inexplicable reason, he isn’t.

Some of the demon’s features are blurred which James supposes is a good thing because he’s not sure if his mind can make complete sense of it.

James reaches out and touches the centre of the demon’s chest as well. He won’t remember how smooth and warm its skin feels under his palm.

“No,” James says, “I am not afraid.”

Bravely, to prove his point, James steps forward and embraces the demon.

It slowly puts its arms around him, seemingly unsure and confused while mimicking James’ actions.

James nuzzles contentedly in to the warmth of the demon beneath his cheek and sighs. “I feel…protected.”

“I will alwaysss protect you,” vows the demon in a low rumble.

Long fingers stroke James’ birthmark and James’ reaction is instantaneous, too fast to marvel at the demon’s ability to see birthmarks too. James breathes heavily, gasping and breathless, his whole body suddenly filled with longing and need.

He’s hard. So hard.

The demon purrs in satisfaction and James can feel it getting aroused too, its cock rising and pressing against his abdomen.

“For you are mine as much as I am yoursss,” hisses the demon on the last syllable.

It eases James down to lie on the floor. Then, looming over him, it grips James’ forearm, directly over on top of the mark. Its sharp talons dig down hard enough to draw blood but James doesn’t care. If anything, it only spikes his arousal.

“Hold on, Jamesss,” it says.

James can’t hold on. He’s going to come and come hard.

He’s so close, close enough to see white light and—

He feels an ache in his balls but he’s floating. He must be on the good drugs because everything is too bright and fuzzy.

He starts to make out shapes and figures. There is one that stands out in the distant with dark hair.

“Vesper,” he whispers before losing consciousness.

00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q

_Venice_

James looks out to the open waters of Venice, sparing a thought to the shadow that he hasn’t seen in a while, the shadow that healed him after he killed Obanno.

He wonders if he’ll ever see it again. It’s right useful to have a guardian shadow that can heal in his line of work, even if it didn’t save him from being poisoned. It also didn’t save him from being tortured by Le Chiffre. Now James can’t have any children, not after his reproductive system was irreparably damaged.

He never wanted to have children in the first place, but he also didn’t want to have that choice to be taken away from him. At least all of his bits and sex drive still work.

He glances up at Vesper and thinks, _yes_. Between the choice of an inconsistent shadow and her, he’ll pick her. Always.

Then he hits the send button, tendering his resignation from MI:6.

00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q

_Venice_

James dives into the water and swims quickly to where the elevator has fallen.

He pulls at the bars in a desperate attempt to open the gate, to free Vesper before she drowns.

She comes to him and he is relieved. She has changed her mind.

But no, she takes his hands and brushes her cheek against the back of his fingers.

She kisses his knuckles for the last time and then pushes herself back, as far away from him as possible.

_NO!_ he screams in the water.

The shadow suddenly materializes next to her.

He yells at it, _Help me!_ as Vesper gasps her last breaths and mouths _I love you_.

The shadow does not move.

In stroke of inspiration, he kicks at gate. It opens and he reaches for her, once, twice, until finally catching her outstretched hand.

As he swims them up, he can’t help but think that it takes three to four minutes for an adult to drown and James prays that he will be in time.

Laying Vesper on the roof, James feels for a pulse and finds none.

She’s not breathing either, her airway’s blocked.

All of his CPR training finally comes back to him. He compresses her chest and gives her two breaths.

How many minutes has it been?

Too long. Too late.

Spying a shadow in the corner of his eye, he sits back and looks up.

The shadow, it’s back.

“Save her! Heal her, please,” James begs of it.

But the shadow stays in place, silent and unmoving. There’s no pain on his arm like last time because he’s not the one hurt like last time. It can’t heal her through him.

He looks at Vesper in despair then holds her limp body up to his. Burying his face into her neck, he cries brokenly, “Don’t leave me. Don’t…Vesper.”

_Too long. Too late._

00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q

_Venice_

James is in a different room, a different hotel even, since the room he shared with Vesper is under investigation.

Seated at the window of his new room, the beauty of the view is wasted on him as he drinks and drinks in an effort to numb the pain in his heart. The drinking is only making it worse, really.

The feeling of being watched is back. It never left since Vesper died. The shadow stuck by his side all the while the ambulance and local police arrived to take her away. It was there while he was under arrest at the police station, throughout his monitored phone call with MI:6, and during his subsequent release and transport to the hotel.

Just because his heart is broken, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t see. He observed everyone he interacted with that day, watched for minute changes in facial expression and body language, but it seemed like nobody could see the shadow; nobody except for himself.

He blatantly studies the shadow in the reflection of the window. It has gained more definition, no longer flickering smoke or a floating oval shape like before, but something solid with mass.

“What are you?” James asks.

He watches it lift its head in the window reflection.

“Why do you follow me?”

The shadow has _horns_ , clearly not human.

“Am I cursed?”

The shadow moves closer to James until it’s standing behind his shoulder, away from the lamp light.

James turns and reaches out. His hand is obscured in darkness as he pushes through the shadow.

He turns his head back to the view and mutters, “You’re not even real,” as he takes another gulp of his scotch, relishing the burn as it goes down.

“More importantly, why couldn’t you have saved her?”

His face crumbles.

“She was right there!” he shouts.

His birthmark starts to heat up and he laughs cynically through the pain. It would be a miracle if the shadow can heal his broken heart.

“She was right there,” he weeps.

James is no longer sure if he’s talking to the shadow or to himself but he is starting to feel sleepy.

He murmurs, “She was right th…”

The tumbler in his hand drops to the floor with a soft thud. His head lolls to the side and he’s asleep.

The next morning, James wakes up in bed with no recollection of how he got there. He still feels sad and broken-hearted, but he doesn’t have a hangover even though he drank half of the bottle last night.

Sitting up, he sees the shadow. It looks less defined than last night, regressing back into a long floating oval.

“Thank you. Again,” James says.

He didn’t intend for his thanks to be a dismissal but the shadow took it as one anyway and it slowly disappears from view.

The feeling of being watched disappears with it and James sighs. The mystery of the shadow remains.

**_Casino Royale End_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue with (*) is direct from Casino Royale (2006).
> 
> Vesper's death wasn't angsty enough for me so I thought I'd rectify that. Let me know if you agree in the comments below.
> 
> There was an American TV show (cancelled a long time ago) where a teenage girl prayed to God and in exchange He has her go out and do good. I can't remember what it's called but that's where the inspiration for this story came from. Except this is going to be in reverse (obviously). Does anybody know what TV show I'm talking about?
> 
> EDIT: It's Joan of Arcadia!


End file.
